


between limbo

by FuchsiaPaper



Series: charles x burt (platonic or romantic) shenaniganry [2]
Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Demon, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Memory Lane, ONE romantic flashback but thassit, Post-Valiant Hero Ending | VH (Henry Stickmin), STOP MAKING GOOD ART YALL, a crap ton of nostalgia, angel - Freeform, another. fucking. twitter prompt., in between, limbo AU???, platonic, random rules, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuchsiaPaper/pseuds/FuchsiaPaper
Summary: The last thing Burt saw, was a chunk of ceiling falling towards his face and blaring red lights.The next thing Burt saw, was his old best friend, Charles.With wings.What the fuck.---A story of two estranged childhood friends, reconnecting.Inspired by @OTPresent on twitter:https://twitter.com/OTPresent/status/1352708030677348355
Relationships: Burt Curtis/Sven Svensson, Charles Calvin & Burt Curtis, Charles Calvin/Burt Curtis, Charles Calvin/Henry Stickmin
Series: charles x burt (platonic or romantic) shenaniganry [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171232
Comments: 22
Kudos: 42





	between limbo

**Author's Note:**

> well, this.. definitely turned out a lot longer than i expected
> 
> basically me getting all up in my nostalgic feels
> 
> here are some comics i sketched up before writing this!  
> https://twitter.com/FuchsiaTwit/status/1353933214352461825

He had expected darkness. Nothingness. To fade away as his consciousness, memories, culmination of his entire being bled off the stage of life, for the universe to swallow whole.

Instead of pitch black however, or the ever encompassing void of cold space, he got light.

Least, on one side of his face anyway. But there was motherfucking _light._

In the beginning, it all wavered like a heat wave. Blurry, oozing, holographic to boot. For a brief second, he saw all the colors, and then the very next, just plain bright white.

And gold.

Feathers?

Golden fucking feathers? Damn, so he was wrong--there IS a god.  
But, if that were true... why wasn't his ass cooking in hell??

Burt was _certain_ he was in no way a "good person", however any divine being may define that.  
He was in a criminal organization. He stole nearly all his life. Now to be perfectly fair, whenever he injured other people, it was mostly in self defense, but even then his list of crimes were certainly hefty enough to get him put on the naughty list. So then.. why?

Why was there an angel in front of him?

Well, not facing him in front--its back was turned, filling his clearing vision with nothing but satin looking gold and.. and...

...red headphones.  
  


What the _hell_ kind of a goddamn angel wears _headphones??_

"--ar me? Listen, I do--" Ah, there's his hearing, finally sputtering back to life. He strained his ears, latching onto the angel's voice, but it was still too distant. Slippery. "--ight, this--n workin... just--"

Burt grunted, swatting at his ears to no avail. He realized that he was sitting down, anchored down by nothing but his own disorientated self. It took some effort, but he managed to shift himself unto his knees. As he did, the angel crouched down beside him. His face.. he was...  
  


No.

No the hell it wasn't.

And with that, all of his senses came crashing back in full tidal force.  
Blinding, deafening, everything, and then not.  
  
"Burt!" Un-fucking-doubtable, that voice. "Stay by me, okay? Nod if you can hear me.. nod if you can--oh, you're nodding. Nice. Good." Charles huddled closer, looking off into the distance with a grimace. Burt followed his gaze and _holy_ _FUCK_ were those demons if he ever imagined one.

They still looked "human" for the most part.. just, slightly more terrifying. Slightly.

There were three, all seemingly with elongated spikes protruding from their spine, the classic devil horns in a multitude of variety, same goes the tails.. and long, blackened razors for fingers.

Worst of all though, aside from their poking fangs, their face and eyes looked too.. normal _._ Too human, compared to the rest of the twisted body.

Two hands gripped Burt's shoulders, hot and burning. Out the corner of his eyes, he could see the two ends of his wings encircle them protectively, but he wasn't sure how they'd fare against _those_ claws.

"Can you stand?"

Burt tried it, promptly falling back on his ass. He didn't know how his voice would come out right now, or if he'd even recognize it, so he just shook his head.

"Welp, I didn't wanna have to use this but.." Charles took out a pistol from a hidden holster on his belt, angling it at the encroaching demons.  
Three quick shots rang out consecutively, and Burt covered his ears in a wince. He was on the cusp of a headache, but thankfully, no more than three bullets had to be fired.  
  
Which was good, cause that's all there was left.

Charles looked around them: a vast plane of jungle and lush greenery, yet somehow, it all looked sterile and glassy. As if the leaves were made of shiny plastic, and the ground was only three inches deep to a clean concrete floor. Temporary.

Looping arms beneath Burt, he carefully heaved him up to carry, working the wings overtime to take off into the air.  
Burt, still confused beyond all comprehension, decided to stuff away the fact that he was in the arms of his estranged childhood friend, and focused on the flapping wings instead.

They were long, a given, but also spindly. And they looked so delicately silken, a seeming miracle that the wings were able to take off with the both of them at all.

"..I see a cave below. I can take us there and.. well, I don't know much about this place, but I'll uh, try my best to explain everything the other angels told me?"

Burt nodded, cause there's really nothing much else you could do in a situation as bizarre as this, and he closed an eye to drift away.  
Into the dark nothingness he should've met to begin with.

  
  
\---

  
  
An eye.

He had one eye now. The other, his right, was gone. Simply gone.  
No gushing blood or anything though. His socket was merely hollow, and Burt marveled at how he could fit three fingers into his head without a problem (where was his fucking brain??), till Charles lightly slapped him.

"Don't do that. It's creepy."

Burt grunted. Charles cocked his head.

"Say.. you _can_ talk right?" Burt nodded. "Oh.. alright.." Charles poked his head out the opening of the cave they were in. Burt suspected he knew the reason why he didn't want to speak.  
"I'll um, go find some angels first to see if they got anything to fix you up."

Burt looked down on himself. Aside from his missing eye, the rest of his body seemed fairly intact. Oddly, he was a bit singed in some parts, the thinly wafting smoke never ending. The constant burning onslaught didn't sting his eyes or make him cough, but he certainly could smell it.  
He nodded, and Charles hurriedly flew off into the air.

At that, Burt closed his eye again. He didn't know why he felt so sleepy. This was the afterlife, wasn't it? He figured certain rules like eating and drinking (and by extension, sleeping), wouldn't apply here.

Then again... who cares.

He slid down to his back, the cave floor not feeling as cold and jagged as it probably should've, and he tried to return to that comforting null of sleep. But he couldn't.

Instead, he got little unwanted flickers of the past. His life. They whirled by as such:  
  
The clan members, celebrations for the successful rocket launch, glass viewers filled with sparkling nebulas and the Earth, fuck- he never got to tell Sven, his recon team, office space..  
  
His whole life seemed to be all about the toppat clan. He'd been there since highschool. Since...  
  


...since the more carefree days of video games, etching carvings into those pathetically small things they called student "desks", playing pretend, slipping soda cans into his pocket from the convenience store, sitting three inches away from the television screen and feeling his eyeballs blast away from perfect vision to not, tsking grown ups, and--

  
Charles.

"Alright, I'm back." Burt opened his eye, seeing Charles settle right in front of him.  
"So I found a few folks up in the sky. Er, most like to stay up there since, demons can't fly as high as us. Funny thing, uh, angels can apparently heal? They showed me how but.. well, here-"

He shuffled closer, holding Burt's face in place, almost like he was about to either kiss his forehead, or headbutt him into oblivion.

"I have no idea if this'll hurt or not, but if it does... sorry." A decade too late of an apology, but Burt couldn't really focus on that when Charles leaned in and blew a stream of air into his socket--a _very_ strange sensation. Like cooling winds, swirling inside the chasm, somewhat burning and sizzling when it came into contact with something.

There was pin-needle buzzing, fuzzy and fizzy like sparkling wine--a brief "oh wow" from Charles--and then.. he opened his eyes.

His eyes.

Burt rubbed them, finally astonished enough to speak. "Good god."

"Yep." Charles coughed a few times, then sidled down beside Burt. "Well, not really. Far as I can tell, there isn't one here. So... uhh," He fiddled with his headset, making Burt almost automatically do the same. He still had his own pair on, along with his bludgeoned top hat.  
"-do you want an explanation? Of.. all this??"

Burt shrugged a shoulder. "Could help."

"Yeah. Yea.. ok. Soo, we died." Burt rolled his now fully intact eyes and Charles huffed. "We died.. and now this is the afterlife. Turns out, some people become 'angels', others 'demons'. But anybody in between, just, doesn't??"

"So, we stay human."

"I guess... dunno, maybe you were too morally grey to be a demon?"

He hummed, a little amused. "Heh.. probably needed to kill somebody or something."

Charles stretched. "Oh I dunno.. I've had to kill a bunch as a soldier but--" He winced. A sore topic, but not because of the killing itself.

Burt sighed. He switched topics; no use in figuring out exactly how every rule works in this place. "How'd you die?"

"Uhhm... well, now this is gonna be a little awkward." Burt rose a brow. "I was on a mission, with Henry."

"Stickmin?"

"That's the one."

"Thought he died."

"Me too! But uh, he wasn't. Found him at some Canadian bar."

"Huh." Burt thought back to countless nights of being Sven's therapy wall as he ranted about all the undertakings of the rocket plan thanks to said reformed thief, and then thought it no more.

"You guys were good." Burt almost chuckled "N-not like, morally good. Just.. with that orbital station, any missions about the clan became pretty impossible to complete." Charles sighed. "So, I got a little frustrated. Asked Henry if he wanted to help me take you guys down. He agreed."

Watery images of a large jolt crashing the station and urgent alarms swept by under his eyelids, and Burt pinched the bridge of his nose. "Holy shit."

"..."

"That was you?"

Charles flexed his fingers, a little embarrassed now. "..Yeah I.. I um, crashed into the station with a government spaceship." He didn't want to, but Burt saw that shy smile of crumbly summer pies and lemonade with the seeds still floating in it, and it was _hard_ to look away. "I always wanted to do that."

_Fuck._

"Why you." Charles stilled, glancing at him furtively.

"..what do you mean?"

"Why.. why..." Burt struggled with continuing the train of thought, and promptly gave up. "Nothing."

"Why was I the one to find you.." Charles continued for him, like he always did, always.  
This was getting to be too much.  
"..weeell, I think we all fell to Earth at roughly the same places. I woke up around here, but like, way up. Some angels greeted me, talked for a bit, then I flew down to look."

Burt covered his face, wanting to die a second time because lord did he sound near _exactly_ the fucking same, mannerisms hardly changed, ALL physicals tics still intact--too much, too much, too much.  
He ground out again, "Why."

"I.." Charles rolled a shoulder, the wings involuntarily flicking with it. "I was looking for.. Henry. I died when the station exploded, but, we were about to escape. Then some other toppat grabbed Henry out the last escape pod, so I tackled him. Threw Henry back in, closed the door, then.. boom."

Crumbling infrastructure, collapsing walls, the cracked ceilings-- "I died by the ceiling falling on me.. I think."

"Ah.. so you would've been here earlier... I er, found you out cold on the ground. Angels and demons just sorta, like.. spawn here like this. But the ones who don't become either, come with the injuries that killed em."

Burt faintly traced his healed eye. It was as if nothing happened to it (now that he thought about it, he did see a glint of metal right before his death.. ceiling must've had a pipe sticking out), and due to the lack of blood or.. any organs really when Burt tried poking at it before, he assumed their "bodies", were really just husks.

"Mm.. what if you come here with a bullet to the head?"

Charles made an "i dunno" noise. "Mmmaybe they just have a hole in the head?"

"Decapitation?"

"I saw another human here with both arms cut off so.. huh. Guess they'd be donezo?"

"..then what, an after-after life?"

Charles laughed. "Won't know till we die again."

The two sat in silence a little, only a bit awkward.  
"...those demons were trying to kill me."

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Some of the older demons here apparently think humans are suuuper tasty."

"Why did you save me?"

"I-I.." Charles gave him a look of disbelief, which faded soon as it came. "I.. couldn't just let you get eaten or whatever. You.."

Nothing.

Burt slowly stood up, moving towards the cave entrance, but he didn't leave.

Ignoring the too-bright-too-blue skies, Burt looked down at his shoes, pondering if any of his friends in the clan would've become angels. Or demons. Or, just in between like him.  
He wondered if Sven--

"You see anybody with a blue top hat here?"

Charles startled at the sudden question. "Uh, no?? I saw maybe a few around with top hats, but.."

"Blonde hair."

"Who.. who is this?"

"What's it to you." Burt shut his eyes. Goddammit, he's opened the can.

"Burt.." Charles got up, carefully inching towards him. "..look, you don't have to stay with me if you don't wanna. But, I don't really wanna see you die again either. And no offense, but alone, you're probably gonna get chowed on."

He spun around. "Why do you want me to live so much? You killed me to begin with, didn't you?" Charles' face dropped, and the wings curled in on themselves. It _really_ annoyed Burt with how much the sight hurt him.

"..I know. I-" Charles stepped back until his back hit the walls, and the feathers ruffled up to almost twice its thickness, covering him. "I-I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have left."

There was something just so bitter about being nice. Burt sighed. "It wasn't your fault.. I was an asshole, okay? If anything-"

"Shouldn't have left though."

Burt walked over to where Charles now sat, head in hands, and he knelt down closely. "Just.. be quiet." Charles sniffed, nodding. "Just be quiet and sleep. And if you can't sleep, then close your eyes and pretend to... _I'm_ going to sleep."

Another nod. Burt grimaced, leaning against Charles' shoulder and tickling feathers, crossing his arms. He closed his eyes and, while it took a good couple of minutes for Charles to stop _thinking_ so damn loud, he eventually calmed down.  
Soon enough, Burt faded for a second time.

  
  
\---

  
  
He had never really gotten _angry_ at Charles. Annoyed, plenty. Irked, sure. But never genuinely PISSED at him for anything. Mostly, he'd probably just give him the silent treatment if he ever held any grudge, and soon enough they'd fall back into normalcy. So, when he finally did, he wasn't sure what to expect.  
  
They fought many times, but they never turned physical with it. Never said any gutting, terrible things to the other's face.

Turns out, both would happen.

"You're actually kidding me right now." Burt chuckled mirthlessly. And he didn't do that often. Either you get him to really laugh, or he saves his facial muscles the effort and doesn't bother to emote.  
"You can't be serious." Burt squinted at the paper Charles was holding up in front of him.

"What? Why would the military deny me? I'm healthy and all that stuff."

"No that's not what--okay." Burt pushed the paper out of his face. "Okay, but.. you're not going."

"..why not?"

An entire aneurysm, he was going to have. "Charles- what are you saying? We both got accepted to the same college. That was, that was our--"

"Dude, I know this is a huge bummer. I'm sad about it too. Dorming with you would've been the _best_ , but like.. we never _promised_ to go to the same college. Cause, what if we didn't get into the same university?"

"But we fucking _did_." When they tore open the letters, and Charles hopped onto him like a damn koala, would it be too assuming for Burt to such a reaction as some sort of promise? As a bloody confirmation?? "And then we drank our asses away to celebrate-"

"Alright but, that was _before_ I knew about my acceptance to the air force academy. I'm really, _really_ sorry man.. but, I wanna go. I have to."

"You- you visited the academy for like, two days. What made you change your mind so goddamn fast??"

"Well, I mean, I.. really like the place?" Burt fell back onto his bed with a groan. "H-hold on okay?! It's hard to explain."

"It shouldn't BE hard to explain. Listen: we go to college, because then we can get a degree, to get a good job, and hopefully be rich or some shit. There. Easy."

"That's just the thing Burt, I don't KNOW what I want to do in college! I-I don't know what I wanna do, period." Charles repeatedly ran his hands through hair he should've cut years ago. "I just.. applied cause everybody else did. But.."  
He trailed off.  
  
Burt grumbled, because he did agree with him there. To hell if Burt knew what _he_ wanted to do.  
He'd always liked playing games, surfing the net or fooling around on his computer to procrastinate on homework.. had plenty of hobbies, but none that'd translate into a career so easily.  
Though, he never really bought into the whole "follow your passion" mantra school pushed at him. He just wanted something that paid well so he could do other fun stuff on the side. _That_ would be where the "passion" came in.

"...look." Charles leaned against the wall. "When I got into that jet, and- and felt out all the controls.. I... I just knew that's what I wanted to do. Look, pay's fine and all. I get to pilot a sick chopper, free housing, what's not to love?"

Burt sat back up again on his bed, leaning forward. "What if you die."

"H-huh??"

"What if there's a war, and you get sent off, then fucking crash and explode, huh?"

"Burt, come on.."

"Actually, not even that, there's already a bunch of wars America's constantly at. You'll just be KIA eventually. And what if you don't even-"

"Dude, stop it."

"No." Burt stood up, walking closer as he talked. "Because you're not thinking straight."

"Man, when have I ever thought straight--" He was still _joking._ Treating all this as if it were some little inconvenience to step around. And- maybe, in the long scheme of things, it was. But dammit, at least Burt stuffed his emotions away _afterwards_. Charles began suppressing DURING the goddamn conflict itself, and while Burt was used to it, he couldn't take it with this.

"What you're _supposed_ to do, is think these sort of things through. Not just.. just commit your entire future to something cause you wanna feel cool."

" _Burt,_ what the hell!" Charles lightly shoved at Burt's shoulder. "Seriously? That is SO not what this is!"

"Then what is it?" Because what it looked like to Burt, was that he accepted an offer from a college (a decent one to be sure, but..) and then his one and only best friend bailed on him not even a full month since then.

"It-it's just-!" Charles made a short frustrated growl. "I just knew, okay?"

"Oh, that's great." Burt turned to at the ceiling, then back. "That's fucking great. You get a 'feeling'. You just _know_ it in your _heart_ don'tcha. God damn it Charles- don't you know how stupid that sounds?"

"Fuck man, I'm sorry that you're upset, but.. but you know you can't control where I go and-"

"This isn't about flippin control! This is me, being your _friend._ Making sure you don't mess up or throw away your life."

"Aight, but listen to this: it's still _my_ life to throw away isn't i-" That was it.  
Burt took two long strides over to Charles and, even though he was already against the wall, gripped him by the front of his hoodie and knocked him back to it again.

"You-!" Burt had a lot of things he wanted to say.

Number one: don't _say_ stuff like that ya dolt

Number two: you're MY dolt. my only real close friend, from childhood, and those are pretty darn rare

Number three: and maybe, just maybe--aside from the highschool counselor practically forcing everyone to--the only REAL reason I applied to all the same colleges you did, was so we could stick together  
so we don't just fade and drift apart, like all fucking friends do after highschool

Burt wanted to say all of these things, in the order they came to his head as above, but what came out instead was this.

"Only reason you're applying, is cause your dad died in duty."

And something flashed across Charles' face at that. Mostly just shock, morphing into obvious hurt, but beneath it all, there was a sliver of sheer _anger_. The kind where you'd call at your friends to hold you back so to stop you from doing anything too stupid. Now he was just as pissed off as Burt, if not more.

Charles' hands clutched at Burt's wrists, half-heartedly trying to wrest them off.

There was a line Charles was walking mentally right now. He could double down, try to placate this _incredibly_ new situation (because usually, if Burt couldn't win an argument in less than two minutes, he'd just roll his eyes and c'est la vie) and scale the tensions back down. OR, he could turn around, walk out Burt's house for the last time, and lose his only brother.

On the other hand, Burt was YANKING a line--had been this whole time--to one side and one side only: stick to the _plan._ Go to college and do fun shit with his bro. That's it.  
  
Unfortunately, it was also precisely the thing to snap the line altogether.

"You wanna be a soldier boy so bad? Just _shut up_ , and listen to me, okay? You'll thank me late-"

Charles finally pushed Burt off of him, throwing him to the bed. Burt bruised the back of his head against the edge of his window sill with a wince, but voiced nothing.  
  
He twirled back to the door and opened it, looking back at Burt resolutely. He never glared at him like that before, and Burt felt both a flurry of panic and stubborn righteousness.  
  
Panic cause, _shit,_ was this really going to be it? After all they went through??  
  
Righteousness cause, he felt like he'd been doing the right thing. _He_ was being the bestest friend ever by looking out for Charles and making sure he didn't commit _everything_ to some chance choice made in whim. He was in the _right_ , and Charles could read all these thoughts clearly from eyes alone.

"You know what Burt?" His voice was shaky, and Burt was pretty sure his would be too if he spoke right now.  
"At least he loved me." Burt's jaw tightened. That was honestly kind of expected, but it still hurt to hear him say it. The only balm was the millisecond of regret he saw cross Charles' eyes, and he knew it was stupid, but he almost felt vindicated at that. In a juvenile "that's right, _feel bad_ dumbass" sort of way.  
It looked like he wanted to say more, but deciding against it, Charles left the door in a slam.

Burt waited and waited for Charles to leave through the front door.  
It took around five minutes for him to hear the entrance shut, and five again for him to finally let it all out, and yell.

If there was an angsty punk song called "everything is stupid", that'd probably be playing as he released his frustration unto his poor bedroom.

That stupid poster of some obscure band Charles gave him? Ripped.

The stupid college brochure? Ripped.

Even the blankets looked stupid to him at the moment and, as a result, got ripped to shreds too (boy, he sure did like ripping shit didn't he).

He was about to reach for something else on his desk to tear apart, but his hand froze over it before he could.

It was an old business card he had been meaning to throw away, but kept using as a bookmark.

He remembered telling Charles about the funny story on how he got randomly handed it by some dude with a british accent, but haven't thought of it since.

Picking it up, he read the flimsy thing, flipping it back and fro.

There was a QR code, and a number, as well as some cursive text, "riches".

Feeling completely burned out now, and not wanting the aching emptiness to settle in soon after, he settled in front of his computer and let his curiosity take over mind and body.

There turned out to be a few simple puzzles to solve before he got to finally reach the infographic poster in all its MS Paint glory.

..the Toppat Clan..

  
  
\---

  
  
Burt woke up to fluffy white clouds, whizzing by, and for a second he thought he might've died _again_ , or maybe ended up in a new afterlife for who knows what for.

But upon blearily opening his eyes, he spotted red headphones and figured, nope. Same nightmare.

"Oh shoot, you awake?" Charles was back to carrying him in the air, flying at a surprisingly decent speed. Burt mumbled a small "yep" and looked down. Thousands of feet up from plummeting death. Lovely.  
"Sorry. I couldn't sleep.. and I spotted a buncha old demons outside again. So, I'm taking us someplace else."

"..where?"

"Uhh, honestly, wasn't too sure at first. But I'm thinking the government base? Pretty sure my housing there is still empty, so.. we can just chill there for now."

"Err.. why do those demons only go after humans?"

"Ooh, I um.. actually ran into some angels up here while you were asleep. Apparently, they also _really_ like the taste of wings."  
A tsk. "Angel wings. Not chicken wings.. man I really want those."

Burt nodded, not at all hungry. "I don't think we can eat anymore."

"Yeah.. bummer."

Eventually, Charles reached the base and surveyed the landscape quickly. "..hm. I don't see any demons? I'll just, drop us off here then." They landed on top of a tall building, which Burt assumed to be the military-issued apartments.

"So.. anything else you learned about that I should?"

"Yeah! Uhm, everything in this.. dimension? Sure, dimension--is really weird and weak. I can still lean against this door.." Charles did so on the roof's escape door. "But, if you try reaaal hard, you can push through it."

"Huh.." Burt watched as Charles slowly merged into the locked door. "Can I?"

"Mhm. Demons can't as easily though, which is why it's a good idea for humans to stay in buildings or something." Charles' chin was now disappearing, but he kept amicably talking as the rest of his torso sank in, and for whatever reason, it tickled Burt.  
"Man, that sounds weird. Cause, I'm technically still human, right? Or I was.." Burt covered his mouth. Why did the image of a rambling idiot _slowly_ melting through a door look so damn comical?  
"We should give you guys a different name. Let's see.. in-between..ers? Egh, or how about Mids? Hrm... Limbos? Gosh, this is tough."

Burt was having a goddamn seizure in his abs trying not to giggle, shaking his head. "Shut _up._ "

He had meant it good naturedly, but Charles actually did, and Burt mentally cursed at himself.  
Bad choice of words.

Sighing, Burt followed suit and began to push himself into the door.  
Like everything else, while it was still technically a solid, the matter had a bit of bounce to it. Almost a mix of solid and air. As if there were a very thin forcefield bubbled around it, allowing one to slowly get through the murky and stubborn material if you put your mind to it.

He muscled through it, closing his eyes as he got his head in, then once most of him was on the other side, he pulled the rest through at a slightly faster speed.  
They were in.

Thankfully, Charles pretended nothing happened and kept on talking, though with noticeably dampened energy.

"I um, think someone said that the longer demons stay here, the more they basically become animals or whatever?"

"...why all this effort to eat us though? I haven't been hungry or thirsty at all since coming here. Tired maybe, but.."

"Pretty sure only they feel hungry."

"Ah."

"Like, constantly."

"Great."

Making it to Charles' room, he began to do the same process with his door, poking his head first through..

..and then jolting, quickly pulling himself out of it.

"Fuck."

Charles breezed past Burt, back down the hall. "Uhh.. where are you going?"

"I'll be in the rec room if you need me."

"I don't--" Burt huffed as Charles disappeared around a corner. "--know where.. that is. Ok then." He rubbed his neck, looking to the door again. What'd he see in there?

Burt figured he could stick his face in real quick, just to check.

It was a fairly thin door, so it didn't take long for Burt to see somebody inside, languishing on the couch. A young man, with dark, short hair and.. well, that was just about the only distinguishable feature he could make out from here.  
Curious still, he made his way through the entire thing, walking over.

He immediately regretted going in at all though, as soon as he found that the guy was crying.  
It wasn't terribly awkward since he knew he was invisible, but it was still a tad uncomfortable. The dude was REALLY going through it. Messy waterworks and all.

Burt was just about to exit, when he finally spoke aloud through shuddery sobs.

"..shit, shit.. I'm so sorry." Burt glanced at him, unmoving. "F-fuck Charles.. why'd you have to..?" Another heave. Burt looked away.

This was Henry Stickmin. He heard about the name, and the clan had found out he was the one to help arrest the airship division, but Burt never got to actually see his face or profile records.

The crying died down, and he heard the body shuffle to lie on the couch. "..m-miss you..."

Burt went out, finding it easier and easier to go through objects as he got used to it.  
  
He left the poor lad inside to continue grieve in privacy, and began to search for the rec room.

 _  
  
_\---

  
  
He missed him.  
  


Burt had never heard from Charles since that fight, not knowing how to go about even the beginning steps of a make up. They saw each other in school at times, but no one ever made the first move, ignoring any quick looks thrown to the other's way (or stares Charles probably thought were sneaky).

Whenever they had fights before, no matter how hurtful it may have seemed at the time, they'd always--ALWAYS--naturally dissolve back to joking around like nothing happened within 24 hours or less.  
But this.. this really seemed like an ultimatum. Because they knew they probably weren't ever going to see each other ever again.  
He'd been too selfish, wanting to stick with Charles throughout college, and now, he won't even have him to text long distance with.

And he was bitter.  
At first.

Bitter at Charles for seemingly not wanting to stay with him as badly. Bitter at him for choosing fucking _helicopters_ over his best friend. At everything.

But then he stumbled across Charles crying on the bleachers afterschool with no one around, and then he didn't know what to think or feel.

_Should've held him._

Graduation flew by, and soon enough, it was time for college to start up.  
  
Burt didn't go.

Using that business card, he managed to get in contact with the well-known yet elusive Toppat Clan, and got offered a job after getting past their site security (it really was bad. like, awful. complete boomer crap). He was set to have a _job_ , to do something he was pretty okay with, have a _salary,_ all straight out of highschool too--but, it felt pretty empty.

He couldn't celebrate it, nor rub it in Charles' face cause.. well, he was gone.

So even then, after moving into a Toppat base, bidding his ridiculously out of touch parents farewell, he still. Missed him.

And it's not like he didn't make any new friends at the clan. It's just that no one could really help fill back up that hole left in his gut. After all, it's hard to replace someone who you've known for so long, so well. He learned to ignore it in favor of work after a few months, few years, many years--and maybe, he'd gotten used to it. C'est la vie'd the fuck out of the whole incident--but he always felt that sore absence in the background.

...Until, he got promoted into being the head of communications, and met Sven.

Now, Sven was.. in a word, different.

Not at all easy to show much enthusiasm, not at all easy to get close to, and not at all what Burt would call "best buds forever" material.

However, as time passed by, he also noticed Sven's loyalty to the clan. His snark, focused dedication, frequent gesticulations, the _many_ words he thought sounded adorable in a thick Swedish accent that he _maybe_ wanted to hear on loop forever, his rambling tendencies, cute yawn, shiny hair, his--and god _damn_ it, Burt fell and fell and fell.  
Especially when Sven begrudgingly took up leadership and they had to talk together more.

At first, their conversations were often strictly work-related. But as Sven became more comfortable with the role, he began to rant to him about certain grievances and such. He wasn't sure why he picked _him_ to talk to, but he didn't mind at all, and let him talk his ear off as much as he wanted to.

Over time, they've gotten to the point where Burt could confidently call them close friends.  
To the point where he could even hold hands with him, relishing Sven's burning face whenever he did so.  
To the point, when he could finally lie down in bed, remember the past, and say aloud to the ceiling, "I miss you."

  
  
\---

  
  
It was _weird_ , walking through people. Not too different from walking through other solid objects, but it just felt _SO_ invasively rude to his own personal space, having an entire person just, waltz on through you.

So Burt avoided the crowded halls when he could. Maybe did a little snooping around the government base as he looked for Charles.

...okay, so he did a LOT of snooping. Come on, anyone would.  
Who knew Area 51 had so many aliens?

With both his exploration, and the fact that he had NO idea how the base was mapped out, it took Burt a good couple hours to finally discover the rec room with Charles in it.

Predictably, he was in a good bout of despair, drooping wings and all. Burt made it over to the beanbag he decided to wallow in, and sat on it with a plop, startling Charles.

"Wha-huh?" Charles' cheeks were slightly wet, glistening. "O-oh.. umm, hey Burt."

"Hey."

Charles rubbed at his face, inhaling deeply. "Sorry for bailing on you like that. Shouldn't have."

"It's okay." He calmed down at that, stabilizing his breathing.

"St.. still though.. I could've put you in danger. I mean, whole point of me sticking with you is so demons won't get to ya so-"

"I said, it's. _O_ _kay_. Charles." Burt crookedly laid his hand on his arm, and Charles understood, looking at him astonished.

"I.. o-oh." He sniffed, the smallest breath of laughter escaping. "Ok. Ok.."

Charles laid back fully on the bean bag, and Burt did too, resting his head over the shoulder. It was very clunky, far from the times they sometimes snuggled together in outdoor or indoor tents during sleepovers, but it was alright.  
And that's pretty close to good.

The headwear definitely got in the way a lot though, so Charles pulled his headset down around his neck, and Burt followed, additionally laying his top hat down on the ground.  
  
A bit better.

"I er, saw someone in your room." Charles stiffened, gulping.

"..Yeah, I figured you would."

Burt pressed his ear to Charles' chest, hearing no thumping heart. "That was him, right?"

Charles nodded. His arms tightly wound together behind his head, then fell down on Burt with a deep sigh. "Henry.. jeez, I just felt so- awful? Seeing him like that.."

The smell of smoke still surrounded Burt, and it mingled into Charles, who inhaled it all with another sigh.

"... Sven."

"Eh?"

"You asked before, about the person I wanted to know if you saw? His name is Sven."

His brow furrowed, recalling. "The.. toppat leader."

"Mhm."

"You.." Charles looked down at Burt, who met his gaze. "You..."

"What?"

"...you're dating the _leader_ of the toppat clan??"

Burt smacked him on the belly so soundly, he could've sworn a few soldiers in the room turned to them.

"Ow! Okay, sorry for assuming!"

He smirked as Charles rubbed his stomach with a pout. "Well, we actually might've been, if _somebody_ didn't decide to crash into our rocket."

"Burt."

He only shrugged in return, hiding the smirk in his uniform.

"...burt?"

Oh.

Fuck, he kept saying things too soon. Moving back too quickly. Greedy.

"I uhm.. really am sorry. For causing your death.. i-if it helps, I was sorta hoping you wouldn't be on the rocket when me and Henry went on our mission. O-on any toppat base whenever I had a mission there, ever since I found you in their records, or--."

"Charles, it's.. I said it's okay. I meant that for, everything. You were just doing your job, and I was doing mine. What can we do." Charles lightly tutted, thinking. "..and for the record, I'm sorry too." _so sorry_

Almost impulsively, Charles leaned down to peck the top of Burt's wavy hair, and he let out an exhale at it.

Much better.

Now Charles had to ask, "..hey is, is Sven.. I mean- did you ever find..?"

Burt immediately shook his head. "No. Never found another. You?" If he believed in anyone to be able to get another best friend immediately after a rebound, it was him.

Charles' limp arms made its way around Burt tighter, sinking in deeper to hug him more comfortably. "Me neither."

That surprised him. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"What about Henry?"

"Hen was.. a fun friend. But, I was also kinda hopin, we could..." Charles blushed, and Burt nodded.

"I get that."

"He was just so cute."

"I get that."

Charles smiled, and his wings effectively covered them like blankets, fluffing up for warmth. "..there, really was only ever you."

Burt closed his eyes, the coziness lulling him to sleep yet again. "Only you."

  
  
\---

  
  
Maybe this wasn't the case for most pairs of best buds, but when you've spent as long as Burt has with someone, seen practically all their flaws, visited their homes nearly everyday, showered together naked with literally no hesitation whatsoever, even having come out to each other--it's almost certain that _some_ premature sparks would fly.

And some definitely did their freshmen year of highschool. Granted- they had been positively drunk, but Burt could still remember every bit of it, and he was certain Charles did too.

They were in Charles' house this time, downing a bunch of beer Burt "borrowed" from a party they tried visiting, but then promptly left because EVERYBODY was blasted out their damn MINDS, and.. well, horny hormonal teenagers did what horny hormonal teenagers tend to do (but did they really have to do it out in the open), so they bailed.

"Burtis."

"Whut."

"Buurrty."

"Told you not to call m' that."

"But Buuurrrt's a funny name!" Charles hiccupped, letting the whole thing roll through his body as he hung upside down from the bed.  
He fell.

"Ouch."

The computer was blasting some 23rd rerun of an old show they used to watch avidly, Charles' parent was out and about in the city, the nightly weather balmy--all that good good stuff and.. Burt felt content.

"Dumbass, told you not to try drinking beer upside down."

"Oof, yea.." Charles rubbed his head, his legs still on the edge of the mattress. "Hmmn. That hurt." Gravity slipped his shirt down to his chin, and Burt noted the growing abs beginning to peek through the baby fat. _Noted._

"Drown your sorrows away."

"Gimme." He made grabby hand motions. Burt almost wanted to try kicking at em, but that would require way too much coordination, so he made it for the pack.

It took two tries for Burt to fully grab the can, and three for him to basically shimmy his ass over to where Charles laid in a crumpled heap. He huffed when it took more than all his efforts combined for Charles to come even remotely close to nabbing the offered drink, so Burt tried to helpfully bring it closer.

Apparently, that was incredibly ambitious of him, because he flopped over, causing Charles to finally, fully roll out of bed.

"Crap! Dude oww." Half of Burt's upper body was entangled with Charles beneath him, in a sort of criss cross formation.  
He blinked, took in how his arms were framed around Charles' beet red face, then immediately felt his entire body get set on _fire_.

"Sorry." He was unsure why he didn't move, stuck in place. Charles giggled.

"It looks like you're bout to kiss me, hehe. You gonna kiss m-"

He kissed him.

Deciding to do what absolutely everybody always told him specifically _not_ to do, Burt kept his eyes open. Charles' own was cartoonishly wide in shock, but then they hurriedly closed.  
Burt could feel his heart run a thousand miles per hour, foggy head sharply spouting thoughts in a malfunctioning fountain even faster.

It was like there was one auditorium in his head full of somewhat rational blobs, shouting in disharmonious chorus how, hey- this is fine. I mean, who better to try and go out with, right? You've thought he was decent-looking before, he said you were handsome, and you know everything about each other. It's cool. This could be good.

..of course, that led into the OTHER auditorium full of shrieking _monkeys_ , bonking him in the brains whilst screaming "WHAT THE FUCK" over and over again. Because... what the _fuck._ You know everything about each other! He's your best friend!! You'll ruin everything; if you two break up your friendship will get demoted into the farthest reaches of awkward ex hell and--

For a moment, Burt thought it'll all be cool when Charles wrapped his dangling arms around Burt's neck, fingers ever fiddling and nervous. But then he thought back to all the times they hugged each other in exact same manner, cuddling in elementary like it was nobody's business, Burt's heart filling up with just _so_ much love whenever they did so--every time Charles rubbed his back or Burt looked down on his snoring face fondly, thinking, _god_ , I'm happy, right here, right now, _brotherly affection_ threatening to geyser the fuck out his beating chest and swear on all his breathing relatives that he would always, _always_ protect him and--

**Shit.**

It seemed like Charles thought up the exact same thing at roughly the same time, because his arms faltered, and the clumsy kiss had long since turned still- and wowowow Burt done messed up now huh.

They both instantly drew away from each other and sat up straight, electrified, rubbing their lips away to kingdom come.

"Oh god." Charles was a little trembly.

"Uh-huh." Burt agreed.

They were both paling just a little, looking more sobered than they possibly could've had someone splashed a bucketful of ice water on them... say, wasn't that an internet trend? They should try that sometime- FOCUS.

Charles kept staring hard at the blank wall, roughly mussing up his hair. Burt could see him from the corner of his eyes, almost facing the opposite direction. He opened and closed his mouth several times, then, held out a closed fist.

Index finger up. One.

Two.

Three.

_"No."_

They both said simultaneously, and the relief nearly staggered Burt as much as it made him laugh. Charles blew out all the air in his lungs, falling backwards again.

"Oh thank _GOD_."

"Hahahahaha-"

"That would've been SO awkward if you said yeah."

He had to gasp after all that laughing, switching into wheezes. "I _know."_

Burt's cheeks hurt, and he laid his neck against the bed. Charles mimicked the move, turning to look at him expectedly, for _some_ sort of explanation maybe.

The only thing Burt could offer was a bewildered expression of his own, all trembling lips and crinkled eyes saying, this was gonna be one of those moments. one of those stupid, prepubescent moments where no matter how much he tried, he wouldn't be able to fully articulate WHY he did what he did, and he probably never will, nor have to. a spur of the moment, intrusive thought, glitch in the matrix--whatever. they were both idiots, fin.

All that mattered though, was that he could tell Charles got it, and that they were gonna be okay.

The two laughed some more, downed a couple more beers, then promptly fell asleep, waking up to a trillion missed calls and a yelling mother forcing them to pick up all the beer cans and clean up the sticky pools they dozed off in somehow.

And they were okay.

Sure, it was a _little_ awkward going back to school, but they managed to morph it into a funny inside joke, and life resumed. Back to slipping notes in class, fake flirting loudly in class as good pals tended to do, wingmanning whenever Charles gave him the _look_ and waggled his brows hilariously at some pretty girl or boy during lunch and--

 _They were okay._ And if they could be okay after something like THAT, Burt was fully confident nothing else could tear them apart. Come rain, come sleet, come snow or shine, _nothing_ , could separate the two, he was sure of it.  
Nothing.

  
  
\---

  
  
It was night. At least, in the world of the living, but Burt could gratefully still enjoy the deep skies and twinkling stars, however more strangely "translucent" they appeared in the afterlife.

As stupid dangerous as it might be, he told Charles he was going back to the rooftop to stare at nothing, and Charles said he'd catch up after checking on Henry.

He knew Charles would take forever, so he did some checking of his own in meantime, and--melodramatic clutched heart and all--he briefly glimpsed Sven's records as some employee looked through their toppat clan database.

Alive.

Burt stewed on that a while, arms behind his head as he waited. Shouldn't be long now.  
  


There he is.

Charles' feet dragged as he collapsed down beside him and leaned back on his elbows (..and wings. how did that even work?).  
  
"Hi."

"Hey."

When Charles didn't start, Burt motioned his hand for him to get on with it. Charles sighed, fully lying down on his back. It took a bit of arranging, what with the long wings, but eventually they settled with resting side by side, one wing tucked under Burt's head. It was fairly soft, serving as a pillow strangely similar to those with goose feather stuffings.

He began with a drawn out puff, fingers through his aired out hair. "I.. I tried everything. But, I couldn't tell him anything. Couldn't hold him, couldn't even knock down anything to get his attention, couldn't.. this..." His fingers clawed for a second, and he grunted. "This _sucks."_

Burt figured it would equally suck for him to see Sven in the same state, or (if that was being too generous on how highly Sven thought of him) ignore him as the less-than-ghostly-apparition he was, so he didn't ask if they could try and find him.

"It really does."

"Man.. what-what are we gonna do?" Indeed, a _very_ good question. "I can't stand to see him like this and not do anything.. but, I-I'm probably gonna check up on him everyday and.."

Burt reached a hand up to run them through a wing, hoping that despite it being a completely new and foreign limb, it was somehow comforting.

It seemed to him, clear on Charles' dismal face, that this very may as well have been a whole new hell altogether.  
For Charles, to see a loved one mourn powerlessly for.. well, forever.  
For Burt, to never see said loved one again, eternally fade in and out of both wanted and dreaded sleep, until one of them inevitably slips up and they become demon munchables..  
  
. . .

He made up his mind.

Extending out a hand, he laid it in wait until Charles noticed, and put his hand on top. It was still hesitant, so he entirely expected the next question:

"Are we.. we okay?"

Burt intertwined their fingers, squeezing it. Good enough of an answer, but he knew how much Charles needed a verbal confirmation when in doubt. "Yes."

"Really?"

"Really really."

"Huh." Charles squeezed back. "Okay. I'm.. heh, hehe- I'm, happy."

Burt smiled. "What's so funny."

"It's just, pfft- it took our deaths for us to reconnect--hahaha! Gee."

"Well," He chuckled. "I'm sure there's been plenty of souls here who reconnected after death, right?"

"Yeah, sure.. yeah." His lingering giggles died down, and Charles closed his eyes. Their hands stayed connected.

After around a fuck-all amount of time went by in--long last--comfortable silence, Charles reopened his eyes.

"I think I hear them."

"Hm?"

"Demons. Could come up here."

"Mm."

"We should probably.. get goin."

"..." Their hands stayed connected, neither moving to get up first.

"You uh, tired?"

"I am." Constantly. "Charles.."

"Uh-huh?"

"..why don't we just... just stay."

Charles mouthed the word "what".

"Let's just stay here."

"For how long?"

Burt turned his head to him, and Charles met it. "Forever."

He could see Charles swallow hard, mentally mincing the words. The pros, cons, the point, and eventually, he pressed his lips together tightly.

"You know... there's one thing the angels told me before, that.. I didn't say yet."

"Go on."

"Uhm, they warned me against.. getting attached to any human. Living or dead. Cause, any angel who did, would die pretty soon after."

"..."

"And, I was thinking, that's sorta unfair. Right? You- you're the only one I know here, and.. well, if living here means being a lonely angel forever... I.. dunno."

"Is that a yes?"

"...do, do _you_ want to?"

"I'm not telling you that." Burt shook his head. The flapping wings were getting louder. "Just tell me what you want."

"I.."

Nothing but the deafening sound of silent night, holy even, the demons encroaching closer and closer.

"I... I want this. Yeah." Their hands stayed connected.

"Alright."

Flap, flap, flap.

They both looked up to the constellations, watching streaking lights from the remnants of their death, all falling, falling, falling.

One last quick glance to each other, as if to say "see you on the other side" or something sentimental like that, and then they both closed their eyes, for good this time.  
  


Their hands stayed connected.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! i know i enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Inspired by @OTPresent on twitter: https://twitter.com/OTPresent/status/1352708030677348355


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